Chapter and Verse
by Battus philenor
Summary: GS - A serial killer hits Las Vegas.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Chapter and Verse

Author: Battus philenor

Disclaimer: Yeah, CSI and its characters are still not mine.

A/N: This is my first attempt at a case file. For those folks who are leery of reading WIPs for fear that they won't be finished; this whole story is written and in my marvelous beta's hands. Chapters will be posted as I get them back from her and complete the editing process. I'm hoping for one every few days. I have to thank CTB for her initial proof job and general ego boosting. Also thanks to Ghibli for her excellent beta skills. You two are the best!

She could no longer hold her breath as the salty sea water forced its way into her mouth, burning its way down into her lungs. Her head jerked back as if she were trying to suck in air and expel the nasty sea water at the same time. She succeeded at neither since his hand was entangled in her hair, still holding her under by her scalp. More of the foul tasting water poured into her body as she gagged, then mercifully started to lose consciousness. The light from the sun, which was filtered slightly by the murky water and her light brown hair floating aimlessly around, slowly started to fade to blackness. She no longer saw anything. She no longer tasted anything. She no longer felt anything. She no longer was anything.

He'd read those words once, years ago in a book by some guy whose name he could no longer remember. His palms were sweaty and his breathing was shallow as he laid there with images invading his mind that were so real, they had him reaching out to the victim's silky hair. That was what he wanted, what he hoped for his victims. He hoped to create, to cause those feelings that he'd read about so intently years before, that he'd actually held his breath as he read it; forgetting to breathe until he could feel the burn deep within his own lungs.

The time was now and it was calling to him, too great to ignore any longer. All his planning would finally come to fruition as it was finally time to begin to _feel_ for the first time since reading those words.

After a painstakingly long process, he'd found the main character for chapter one. She had shoulder length brown hair to match the picture he'd conjured in his head after reading that mission-inspiring preface so long ago.

She would make a great introductory chapter for him. She was the perfect victim; innocent and sweet, yet sexy enough to draw you in for more. After watching her, he knew she would prove to be a challenge, but that was what made her special enough to be _Chapter One_. She was the one, and tomorrow would be the day to begin his masterpiece.

He still had to purchase a bag of some sort, to put all of his supplies in. Everyone knew it was best for an author to be both organized, as well as prepared. It would definitely help with his creativity to have everything that might be needed close at hand. With that in mind he thought of the most perfect bag.

All good authors had a brown leather shoulder bag; one with a flap. It would need to be the kind with a strap and brass colored clasps. He briefly thought about some sort of brimmed tweed cap and a pipe, but shrugged that idea off quickly, thinking it was a little too over the top, realizing that all good writers know that less is more. Going down his checklist, he realized all he needed was the bag. One quick trip to the mall and he would be all set.

Walking out into the chilly desert air, Melissa Tressle looked around cautiously as she always did when leaving the restaurant after closing. Even though it was right on the Strip, she knew the importance of being alert.

Her father had taught her well in that area; of course her mother had been the real teacher. When one loses a parent to a violent crime, lessons are learned quickly. Her friends had called her paranoid, at least the ones who didn't know the real story of how Melissa's mother had died.

But upon moving to Las Vegas nine years ago, it was easier just to leave it that she had died, period. Most people really didn't feel comfortable grilling an eleven year old on the details of her mother's death. The surprise of the attack along with the brutality had left Melissa with a deeply ingrained cautiousness and excellent self-defense skills.

Taking the bus to her off campus apartment had become a routine, but not one Melissa took lightly: Purse over her shoulder and gripped tightly by her arm, her small canister of mace always held tightly in one hand while her house keys were out and at the ready in the other, long before they would be needed.

Getting off the bus she looked both ways as she stepped down from the last step, as always. Nothing out of the ordinary; the street was pretty quiet away from the glitz of the neon circus only a few blocks away.

Looking for her apartment door in the building across the street, she scanned the area. Empty as usual, and she carried on. With no movement in the parking lot she breathed a small sigh of relief. Every night was the same; she got more comfortable the closer she got to her apartment.

As a sharp noise came from behind her, she turned quickly, taking in the area with wide eyes. The noise continued; a clicking and skidding sound that her brain recognized at the same time that her eyes spied the offending object.

A rock skipping along the surface of the macadam, she realized it as a diversionary tactic to draw one's attention away from what was really going on. Her heart began to race as she watched the large rock moving across the parking lot pavement, unable to take her eyes from the object even though she knew she had to.

A cold hand clamped down hard over her mouth from behind. A harsh burning weight was felt on her wrist which held the mace as the container fell from her fist. The metal vial rolling along the asphalt was the only noise she could hear through the rushing and pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears.

The air allowed entry through her nose was not enough to accommodate her fierce need as she tried to fight her attacker. She struggled, gasping, trying to move his hand from blocking her mouth and nostrils as her lungs began burning.

She could feel him panting, extravagantly wasting the air and expelling it onto the right side of her face. His hot breath in her ear gave her both the urge to vomit, and the courage to fight. The hand with the house keys flew, as if instinctively, up past her face towards the bastard's head.

Hearing his sharp intake of breath as the key hit home, she struggled harder, knowing this was an opportunity she needed to capitalize on. Hoping he was weak enough from the blow, she tried to move her other arm, but the burning weight grew stronger and sharp pain was shooting up her arm and down from her wrist into her hand.

And as her need for more air grew, so did her panic. She could feel herself losing strength as well as consciousness. She could see her mother's face clearly as the blackness overtook her.

Her body went limp in his arms, finally. He could feel the blood trickle down from his scalp before he saw it drip in front of his eye and down his cheek. He would make her pay for that later. Panting heavily he stood, momentarily unaware of his surroundings, just thankful that the struggle was over for the moment. Holding up _Chapter One's_ body, he was suddenly reminded of his task and the importance of not being seen.

Dragging her to his van which was only a few feet away, his head whipped back and forth, making sure nobody was watching them. Pulling the roll of duct tape from a pocket in his new bag, he dropped the upper part of her body onto the floor of the van, leaving her bent over with her legs slightly bowed and her feet scraping the ground. Feeling her warm ass on his groin area, he took a moment to admire the shapely round form which was causing Hemingway to awaken.

While thinking about slamming Hemingway into that ass was almost overwhelming, he pulled himself together, reminding himself harshly of his purpose here. Grabbing her arms and pulling them behind her, he taped them together as he whispered, barely audibly to Hemingway, why he needed to calm down and get a hold of himself.

_We need to concentrate here. We cannot be caught, not yet anyway. You know that the first chapter is the most important one. It sets the tone, and let's the critics know that we're important and we will be heard. That's it, calm down now. I'll let you play when we get to the lake, after the real work is done._

It was the beginning of shift on a Saturday night and they had a call for a DB out at Lake Mead. The jurisdiction surrounding Lake Mead was sometimes a little fuzzy. Given that the Lake itself was the border between Nevada and Arizona it really should come down to which side of the lake the body was found on. However, since there was no crime lab in Arizona anywhere near Lake Mead, typically Las Vegas was called no matter what. There were times when some politician would get territorial, but for the most part the Vegas crew got the call and this time was no different.

Grissom figured it was just a drop site and even given the distance from the lab to the lake, Grissom decided that he and Sara should be able to handle this one rather quickly. Also factoring into that was the realization that Catherine had the night off and both Nick and Warrick needed to continue to work on their case from last night, unless something new came in.

He just wasn't particularly looking forward to the long drive out there with Sara. Their relationship was not as strained over the last few weeks as it had been, but that long drive together with no work to capture their attention could be dangerous. She had such a knack for sensing his thoughts and then calling him on them.

He had only been driving about twenty minutes when Sara started to get antsy. Her foot was tapping nonstop and she was flipping through the radio stations. So quickly that Grissom knew there was no way she could tell what she was bypassing. Reaching out to remove her hand from the seek button her head looked as if it would fly off as she jumped so high she nearly hit the roof.

"Damn it Grissom!"

"Sorry, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just wasn't expecting you to grab me, sorry." She was blushing and he found it disarming in the situation given that he'd allowed himself to get stressed over this ride.

"That's okay, you just seem a little... anxious." Pausing, Grissom debated momentarily on whether he should ask the next question. Nervous as to her answer, he went ahead anyway. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, you know just too much caffeine. That and the drive to Lake Mead is so long. Sitting in a car this long without doing anything kind of drives me crazy." Blushing again, she turned to look out the window instead of facing his scrutiny any longer.

Relief flooded over Grissom, thankful he could handle this problem quite easily. "I know what you mean. You get in the mindset and prepare yourself for the crime scene. Did you know that it takes less than 15 minutes to arrive at almost every scene we get called to?"

She didn't answer him, but she did turn her head to look at him, her curiosity obviously piqued.

Shrugging, he continued on. "I have to do time studies every time they look at the budget. Anyway, it would stand to reason that a longer commute would cause some discomfort because it's out of the norm. I feel it too. I can drive out to the lake if I want to think, and the drive doesn't faze me at all. But here at work, driving to a crime scene where we do what we do, it seems like wasted time."

Sara was impressed that he'd given it that much thought. It probably shouldn't surprise her; he was always looking at things that way. Breaking everything down and looking at them under an entirely different light. That was what made him an excellent investigator. But this was a little different. This was something that had to do with things he was feeling, and things others were feeling. She really didn't think it was anything he'd give a second thought to.

Finally arriving at the lake, Sara immediately noticed a lack of crime scene tape cordoning off an area. She groaned as she realized that probably meant they had a hike ahead of them.

Twenty minutes later they walked upon the very remote crime scene. Laying face down in less than a foot of water was a young woman with brown hair floating like a halo around her head. The flood lights brought in to illuminate the scene gave an eerie angelic effect to the body.

Her hands were taped together behind her back and her legs were positioned deliberately, grossly spread apart. She was naked with the exception of her socks which were in desperate need of being pulled up, hanging precariously from her toes.

"It looks like she was killed here." Sara said softly.

"Tell me what you see Sara." Grissom asked, wanting to get her thinking about the job and not so much about the young life that had been snuffed out much too soon.

"This spot's too far out of the way for the ground to be this disturbed around her body. It looks like he dug his shoes in quite a bit to get traction."

"Yeah, she must have fought him hard." Grissom added.

"Good girl." Sara whispered under her breath.

Shaking her head she continued her assessment. "He held her under and waited. She was restrained. He obviously planned on restraining her; if he planned to restrain her why would he drown her? Why not bring a weapon or even strangle her? Something more... conventional. Even first timers plan enough to include the method Grissom."

"So maybe that was the method he'd planned all along. It's not as quick as a gunshot or stabbing. In fact, it's much slower and more personal."

"Son of a bitch. Well footprints are useless since they're washing away with the small waves, along with most trace evidence off her body." With that, Sara began to move closer taking pictures of the scene.

They processed what hadn't washed away and took their evidence back to the lab. There was no talking on the ride back and no restlessness evident in Sara's demeanor. She was lost in thoughts about the victim and Grissom was lost in thoughts of how the case was affecting Sara.

Her fingers squeezed into fists, thrust over her head and her teeth were clenched so tightly she wondered briefly if her jaw would hold under the pressure. That thought was quickly pushed to the back of her brain allowing her moment of fury to continue uninterrupted. The insurmountable anger coursing through her body eventually squeezed a single tear from her eye.

It rolled down her cheek, somehow taking the anger with it. The intensity of rage drained all of her energy as her arm collapsed to her side. Unfurling her fingers caused the blood flow to resume, creating a tingling sensation in her digits. The coolness of the air kissing her palms where her fingernails had dug into the skin signified she had drawn blood. She didn't need to look to corroborate that evidence: she accepted on faith that there were half-moon shaped divots filling with blood there.

Faith. A part of her laughed at the ridiculousness of that word. She was certain every dead woman she had ever processed had faith they would never be brutalized. People put too much faith in faith.

With one long deep breath she moved in front of the mirror and began a regimen she could now perform in her sleep. A testament to the sheer number of rape and murder victims she had processed over her four years in Vegas.

Ensuring any tear tracks were blotted away, leaving no evidence of themselves through the minimal make up she wore, Sara washed away the blood from the now permanent scars that had formed on her palms. Another deep breath and she was set to leave the washroom, prepared to return to work; to continue along the tedious path, finding the never-ending list of bastards.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Nearly falling into his apartment, he collapsed in his desk chair. With arms dropping to the desk, his head sank onto them gratefully. Gaining control over his breathing he couldn't help the smile spreading over his face. Sitting back up he grabbed his glasses off his desk. As he pushed them up his nose his smile grew as he realized his good fortune in forgetting them. The fight she put up would have certainly broken them and fragments may well have been left behind as evidence.

Pulling out the special yellowed parchment that he'd purchased specifically for his masterpiece, he opened the desk drawer selecting the brand new quill pen as he eyeballed the yet unopened bottle of ink.

Dipping the pen into the well he began making a list, first of things that worked well in his first chapter, then one of things that would need to be edited out for the next chapter.

The main point of contention being an internal debate on the addition of drugs into what he liked to refer to as the _rough draft_ part of the process, he had almost let his first chapter get away. While he had followed her stealthily for a few weeks, and knew she was a careful one, he had miscalculated her physical strength.

He was a man's man just as Ernest Hemingway was, and he did triumph over the weaker sex of the species in the end, but he was way too close to letting her get away. He would need something to subdue the next _chapters_, at least until he was ready to kill them. He would just wait for them to wake up before holding them under water. After all, it was the fight, the struggle to survive that captured and inspired him in his creativity.

The bag was also a problem. While quite attractive and fitting for an author, it was just not practical for his purposes. He would stick with his hooded sweatshirt; the kind with the roomy pocket in the front.

Another issue was his own Hemingway, and his need for release. He would have to buy some condoms for his next chapters. He had been very careful to douse _Chapter One's_ body with lake water, so he was certain any _living_ evidence was washed away. If he wore a condom from now on though, he could just take that with him and dispose of it later, along with the clothes. Well, most of the clothes.

Reaching his hand into his sweatshirt pocket his fingers clamped down around the cotton material. Pulling it out, his heart started racing as the light pink color of her panties was born. Bringing them up to his face he breathed in deeply, capturing her scent, throwing him back imagining the scene as he once again masturbated.

His semen shooting out, landing on her now cold ass. The only movement from her at this point was caused by the small waves of Lake Mead rolling into her, making her bob up and down slightly. And as he finished his lone act while kneeling over her body, his hand which was not occupied by stroking Hemingway was clutching that pink fabric, rubbing it sensually along the side of his face.

* * *

"Sara, you coming?" Grissom asked Sara, who was just sitting down to a computer.

Jumping up before her butt even hit the chair, Sara asked, "Is Doc ready for us already?"

"Yeah. Did you get that evidence to trace?"

"I dropped it off and was about to look through the missing persons' database, hoping I could find out who she is."

"Maybe Brass will have something on her when we get done with the body." Grissom said as they made their way down the hall to the coroner's domain.

Staring at the absurdly small object, Doc Robbins attempted to pick it up. Never seeming as large before; his fingers, which were trying to hold the tiny weapon, appeared giant sized. Using a glass cabinet as a mirror, he brought the object near his face, his eyes widening in fear at the thought of the sharp little blades entering his nostrils. He was going to kill his youngest daughter for burning out the motor in his nose hair trimmers, having wound it in her doll's hair.

Pushing open the swinging doors, Grissom and Sara were met by Doc Robbins jumping, a crutch falling sideways clanging against a steel table. Completing its journey, the crutch fell to the floor, bouncing once and rattling a few seconds before finally coming to rest.

About to commence a lecture on the properness of announcing one's presence, Doc Robbins could feel a tickling little trickle beginning on his upper lip. Wiping his hand across the area, a small amount of blood was streaked on the back of his hand.

Deciding no explanation was better than then the truth, he carried on as though nothing had actually happened. His sparkling blue eyes glancing up at them; he hobbled to their Jane Doe's body, and offered a very sharp, "Grissom, Sara."

In an effort not to laugh, Sara cleared her throat before asking evenly, "What have you got for us, Doc?"

The embarrassment and amusement of the moment vanished as all three looked at their Jane Doe lying on the table and got back to business.

"Not much I'm afraid. The killer didn't leave much behind, as you probably already know."

"Any signs of sexual assault?"

Glancing at Grissom and then back to Sara, the coroner was always relieved to be able to answer that question negatively, especially around Sara. Her reaction, quite understandably, was never a good one when there was evidence of sexual assault.

"No. It doesn't appear that she'd had intercourse of any kind for quite some time. A bit unusual for a beautiful girl her age; I'd say she's somewhere between eighteen and twenty-four."

"Cause of death?" Grissom asked.

"Asphyxiation due to drowning, you can see the slight amount of foam still present in her mouth. There was water as well as sand in her lungs and stomach, consistent with the water in Lake Mead, so it looks as though she was drowned there. Take a look at this."

Pointing to her mouth, they could just make out a faint bruising on her upper lip and what appeared to be many small scratch marks.

"There was a green thread between her teeth, and sand in her mouth as well. I bagged the tape that was binding her wrists. She's got some sticky residue on her ankles and around her mouth, he must have bound her legs and gagged her as well."

"So the guy came up from behind her, covered her mouth to keep her quiet and then taped her mouth shut once she was unconscious. God Grissom, he must have removed the tape from her mouth when they got to the lake, otherwise there would be no sand present. He wasn't worried about her screaming at that time of night."

"He pushed her face down hard, with enough force to cause bruising and abrasions on her lips and teeth. With that thread between her teeth, maybe she tried to bite him, but the killer was wearing gloves. Sara, didn't you find another thread at the scene?"

"Yeah, floating by her head, it was green, it's in trace. So the killer wore green cloth gloves. That's kinda odd."

"It's odd for a killer to wear cloth gloves, but it's probably not an odd enough glove that we can track down. Anything else, Doc?"

"Other than a broken wrist no, that's pretty much it guys."

"Spiral fracture, or from a blunt object?

"Spiral, Gil. He grabbed her hard."

"Thanks Al."

With that, Grissom and Sara pushed out through the swinging doors, walking slowly down the hall.

"Grissom, he didn't know her. You don't sneak up behind someone you know. If he knew her, he could have gotten close enough to grab her. Yet it was so brutal and such a personal killing, it has all the passion of killing someone known."

* * *

Standing at the bottom of the sweeping half moon driveway of the Mirage, he watched the giggling group of women walking up the sidewalk, approaching the glass doors which would lead them inside the hotel. With the normal daily crowds giving him cover, he was able to follow closely, listening to their entire conversation without anybody taking notice.

Learning that they were friends who'd driven out from California for a few days of fun before their final year together in college, he zeroed in on the four brunettes in the group. Hoping one would stand out from the others as his second chapter.

Making their way through the casino, they split up; half of them heading for the black jack tables while the other half stayed on the main path which led towards the Let-It-Ride tables. Following the group with two of the brunettes, he carried on to the Let-It-Ride tables with them.

Settling himself one seat away from the girls, he waited, played and listened for clues that would point out which would be his next chapter. Both brunettes were beautiful and friendly, either would make a wonderful choice. He found himself worried as to how he would get them alone long enough to grab one, though. Choices were wonderful, but if they were never alone, he might as well give up now and look elsewhere. Just go across the street to the Venetian and latch on to some lovely young thing over there.

He suddenly realized they were discussing their plans for the week and things were looking pretty good for him and the friendlier of the two brunettes, Kelly. Kelly was apparently going out on a date tomorrow night with a young man she'd met the night before while partying at the Coyote Ugly in the New York - New York hotel.

Sitting through one more hand as he learned of the details around tomorrow evening, his luck abruptly ran out. Having been blessed with being quite plain to look at, not too handsome and not too ugly, he was normally very good at blending in with the crowd, until now. Having just won with four of a kind, those at the table as well as the onlookers behind them all took notice of the man who just won hundreds of dollars off a table with a ten dollar limit.

The ohs and ahs of the tourists and casual gamblers, along with the pats on his back and the stares were not something he needed right then. Talk of tomorrow night's plans ended as all three girls took notice for the first time of the plain looking man sitting at their table. As the dealer dealt the next hand, he downplayed his winnings, waiting for the attention to be averted back to the normal goings on inside the casino.

Hearing the time that Chapter Two was meeting _Mr. Coyote Ugly_, he packed up his chips and hurried out of the casino back to the relative security of his apartment. He was thankful that he had twenty-eight hours of hibernation ahead of him to run through the outline for Chapter Two a few more times.

* * *

"Melissa Tressle's our girl from the lake."

Looking up from the papers he and Sara were going over, Grissom's eyebrow rose questioningly, hoping for more information on their victim.

"A local girl, putting herself through school at UNLV." Brass continued, falling into a seat with no grace what-so-ever. "She lived alone not far from the strip, where she worked at the Delmonico Steakhouse."

"Emeril's restaurant in the Venetian. Excellent place, I bet she made pretty good money there."

With his eyebrow rising again, an almost jealous looking Grissom stared at Sara, wondering when she could possibly have had time to go to a nice restaurant like that, and who could have taken her there.

"Yeah, it looks like she may have been snatched on her way home from work the night before she was found."

"Well, let's go check out her place." Sara said as she hurried past Brass, who was not moving from his chair.

"In a minute; there's more you need to know."

Pausing at the door, Sara turned around facing Brass as Grissom took his glasses off, waiting for what seemed to be bad news.

"It seems this one is sort of close to home. Ms. Tressle was going to be interning here at the crime lab this fall, and she had a big fan in the Sheriff. She was working on a double major in Criminal Justice and Chemistry."

Waiting for that to sink in a bit, Brass continued with even worse news. "Her mother died when she was young; the victim of a violent crime of some sort. I'm looking into getting that file sent from Salt Lake City, Utah to make sure there's no connection there."

"Who identified the body, Jim?" Grissom asked as he watched Sara's reaction to hearing of a girl who she seemed to have a lot in common with.

"The father, he was a mess. He kept saying 'not again, not again' and then he just broke down. I had to have somebody drive the poor guy home."

Thinking about his own daughter; Brass grew as silent and somber as Sara had become, as he wondered where Ellie was at the moment and how she was doing.

Seeing Sara's increasingly quiet reaction, Grissom knew he needed to get her out of there and thinking about the evidence again quickly. "Thanks Brass. Let's get going Sara, this is about to get real big real fast. Not only will we get it internally, but the media will love this girl too. Sara, you ready?"

"Yeah, let's go." Sara replied quietly.

The drive to Melissa Tressle's apartment was filled only with silence, as Grissom watched Sara looking out the passenger window, deep in thought. Grabbing their kits, they met up with Brass at the front of his car.

"Ok, I just got a call from Vartan; she left work just after midnight last night. Co-workers said she always takes the bus, which would have brought her to the stop right there."

All three started walking to the rectangular plexi-glass structure Brass was pointing to.

"Vartan spoke with the driver, he said she got off the bus, but he didn't see where she went after that. He moved on up the road, sticking to his schedule. He did say he was surprised anybody got her though. Apparently she was one security conscious girl. Always had her key out ahead of time, and carried her mace firmly in her hand. Said she was always very vigilant; looked around all the time like her head was on permanent spin cycle."

Glaring at Brass, frustration bubbled out of Sara before she could help it.

"Gee Jim, maybe if a member of your family died of a violent crime, you'd be vigilant too."

"Whoa, hey I know. I'm just passing on what was said. I wish she'd been more observant, she might still be alive."

"Sara? How does one snatch somebody who's so observant?" Grissom asked, prodding Sara for the obvious answer.

Turning her attention to Grissom, she could see the gleam in his eye. Putting her mind back on the task at hand, her eyes lit up as she started thinking more clearly.

"He knew her, or he stalked her. He knew her habits, knew she was overly aware of her surroundings; otherwise she would have spotted him easily."

"Jim, are there any tapes that you can pull from the Venetian for the past couple of weeks?" Grissom asked. Continuing his line of thinking he added, "Also, are there any cameras from her apartment complex?"

"I already grabbed the tape from the Venetian from the night she disappeared, but I'll get everything for the past few weeks too. Her apartment building doesn't have any cameras, and the doors are outside; there's no guard or other security system either. I'll check the businesses between her apartment and this bus stop to see if there are any outside cameras along her most likely path. That bank there is probably our best bet for that." Brass said, pointing across the street to the Savings and Loan."

"Sara, you walk the path from the bus stop to the apartment, we may get lucky. Jim, lets get in her place and see if this girl can tell us anything. You talk to any of her friends yet?"

Heading for her apartment, they left Sara behind, slowly working along the route to her building.

"Haven't really found any friends yet, Gil; some acquaintances, but it seems she wasn't exactly a social butterfly. Kind of another Sara, you know?"

"That's what I'm afraid of." Grissom responded, glancing back at the now busy Sara.

"What _I'm_ afraid of is that if this wasn't somebody she knew, we could have more dead girls turning up in a few days."

"Don't jump to conclusions Jim, you know better than that."

"I know that _you_ don't jump to conclusions. I have to be looking ahead. Trying to guesstimate and predict what the deal is, just in case. Especially with the Sheriff breathing down both our necks on this one."

Entering the apartment, Brass took the lead giving a cursory glance to ensure nobody was lurking. Looking around, the bed was made and the apartment was clean, but not overly so. The counters were bare, but there was a plate and glass in the sink. The living room was neat, but lived in with magazines on the side tables along with coasters and another empty glass.

"Nothing happened in here, Jim. I don't think she ever made it home."

"Yeah, he grabbed her off the street. We'll be lucky to find anything. You done in here?"

"Not yet, I want to see if she had a journal. It'd be nice to find she'd been worried about being followed or bothered by some creep."

"Yeah, maybe she wrote his name in her diary, and drew a map to his house for you."

Glaring at the sarcastic man beside him, Grissom bit his tongue preferring to continue on with his search instead.

Smiling apologetically at the suddenly increasingly uptight entomologist, Brass continued more civilly. "I'll ask the father if she mentioned anything like that when he's a little more coherent.

"I'm not seeing anything like a journal here." Grissom said, finally giving up. "Let's go see if Sara got lucky outside."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

"God, Grissom, this guy is not this smart! There's no evidence at the crime scene out at the lake, he just got lucky."

"There's always something, Sara. We'll find it." Grissom said soothingly. Looking at her for longer than necessary, Grissom couldn't help but feel drawn to her as he worried about her with this case.

Wondering why Grissom seemed to be acting nicer than normal to her, Sara continued on, "We got nothing from the route she walked and there was hardly anything at the crime scene itself."

"We still have the tapes Jim got from the bank and from the Venetian; Archie's looking through them and hopefully he'll find something there. Meanwhile, do we know anything about those fibers found at the scene?"

"Not really, just a plain green cotton thread. There was some plant food residue, so we were right in thinking they were probably gardening gloves."

"So, the guy has a car and access to a garden. What else do we know about him, Sara?" Grissom asked, trying to get her concentrating on the facts.

"He didn't drug her, or knock her unconscious with any object; he must have been hiding, waiting for her somewhere to come up behind her. He had a gloved hand over her mouth to stifle any screams. The glove covered her mouth and nose, cutting off her air supply and rendering her unconscious. He taped up her arms, legs and mouth for the drive to the lake. There he removed the tape from at least her mouth, so he could hear her screaming, begging for her life. Then he shoved her in the shallow water, holding her head under forcefully as he watched her struggling, drowning."

"Hey guys don't mean to interrupt, but I've got a little more info for you."

Thankful for the interruption, Grissom turned, concentrating now on listening for more evidence.

"Hey Jim, what've you got?"

Leaning back against Grissom's desk, both scientists listened intently, hopeful for any news which could help their case.

"Melissa Tressle was a wall flower workaholic with little to no time for any friends, male or female. She made no mention to her father of any odd people hanging around, and he knows of no friends that she had. I spoke with her advisor, teachers, co-workers, people in her classes, even people on the street, nobody hung out with this girl. She was known as the smart girl who sat up front and answered all of the teachers' questions and didn't socialize with anybody. She was a dud."

Even though he was still smiling, Brass knew his comment was not received well. Seeing Sara's arms crossed in anger and Grissom's glare, he wisely continued relaying the information.

"It also looks like any connection to her mother's case from Salt Lake is a bust too. The guy who killed her was tried, convicted and actually put to death this past spring. Neither the father nor Melissa went back to watch the guy get the needle. The guy had no accomplices, no family, nobody who thought he was done wrong by the state. A dead end."

"Like everything else so far in this case." Sara moaned, still not easing up with the nasty looks she was throwing at Brass.

"Hopefully we get something off those tapes. I'll catch you guys later."

"Thanks Jim."

With that Brass turned and left Grissom and Sara with not much more than they had before he passed on his information. Grissom watched Sara, standing with arms still crossed, staring into space. Worried she was thinking about Jim's remark, he debated on whether or not to bring up the callous comments; his thoughts were interrupted with Sara bringing them up herself.

"She was me Grissom. You know, you do things... things to try and change, but it doesn't much matter. You are who you are. You can try to get out more, make more friends, and throw away your take out menus but in the end nothing you do really changes who you are. Some of us are loners, have exhausting work habits, and push ourselves to be the best."

"Don't listen to Jim's comment, he was just being... Jim."

"But he's right. You said the same thing yourself. Find a diversion, remember? But, what if it goes against everything that makes a person who they are? What if a diversion pushes you out of your comfort zone?"

"I think the happiest people have a mixture, Sara. It doesn't have to be a life altering event or hobby."

"A mixture."

"A happy medium of work and play."

"What if play is more like work than work is? Why can't work be what you enjoy? Isn't that the point really; the thing everybody strives for, to have a job you enjoy Grissom?"

"Sara, enjoying your work is a wonderful thing, and I agree that most people don't have that. But, no matter what your job is and how much you like it, you still need a break from it. Something for balance, to keep you from burning out, especially in the job we have."

"She was me, Grissom; she was at least well on her way to becoming me. She won't get a chance to put all her theories to use; to take all those experiments and use them in practical situations. All her hard work, none of it meant anything, Grissom. There could be crimes out there two years from now that won't get solved because she was supposed to be here to solve them. It's just so sad."

"Every murder is. We can't focus too much on the victim and what they could have been. We need to keep our perspective and concentrate on the evidence and where it leads us. We need to do that for the victims and their families. That's why we're here; it's what makes us necessary. Without that, without our full attention, they die in vain."

* * *

Waiting across the street from the Mirage, he blended in with the tourists milling around the Venetian. Arriving a half an hour early was necessary even though he figured chapter two would be undoubtedly late like most women.

He watched her emerge, true to her feminine nature, a full ten minutes late, with no outward signs of being worried at her tardiness. Casual and cute, she looked around, searching for her date. She stopped her search as her eyes landed on a quirky young man in a rather loud and bizarre outfit.

He watched while gritting his teeth as the man leaned in and gave his chapter a light kiss on the cheek. A flash of jealousy ran through him as he contemplated holding both their heads underwater.

As he watched the dance play out in front of him he calmed some, realizing no sane woman could take this man seriously. His khaki pants the only presentable thing about him. Paired with the red chucks on his feet and that horrendous shirt, he knew this man would be no problem. His mind drifted momentarily as he found himself wondering where one would even find a shirt like that.

Uneven thick vertical stripes in red, purple, yellow, green, and the most brilliant blue he'd ever seen. Un-tucked from his pants, the clingy silk like material rippled with the breeze, as the flared cuffs billowed out away from his hands, appearing to be searching for something to get caught on. The obvious blond streaks in his short spiked hair seemed to match the bright yellow stripes in the shirt.

Crossing the street, he managed to fall in behind them, undetected on their stroll down the street. Continuing blocks away from the strip, Chapter Two and _The Shirt _meandered with apparently no set agenda. Thankful for the crowd that was accompanying them, he continued walking a safe distance behind them. Sitting on various benches while they drifted in and out of a few small book stores.

Laughing and holding hands, they then made a stop in a small bistro, well away from the strip. The kind of place only a local would know of. They were seated at a tiny table outside, within the confines of a short black iron fence; enjoying a quiet conversation and watching passers by. He stayed hidden, out of sight in a drug store across the street. Perusing a magazine in the big street front window, keeping an eye on the couple and trying to avoid the evil looks from the druggist behind the counter.

As they left the restaurant, he continued his stealthy surveillance, tailing them into a cozy little jazz club just down the street. Thankful for a seat near enough to not only see them clearly but hear them as well, he ordered a club soda and waited for them to leave.

His luck increased a little after ten pm as he heard _The Shirt_ ask her if she was certain she could get home from there. Leaning slightly he listened to the rest of their conversation.

"No really, I want to stay. I may even call my friends and ask them to join me. This club is wonderful."

"Really? I'm glad you had a good time Kelly. I'm sorry I have to go to work. You're in town for a few more days right?"

The hopeful look on _The Shirt's_ face made him want to vomit. What weakness in front of the opposite sex. He had no idea how transparent he was. What a wimp.

"Five more days, then back to the real world in California." She smiled up at him with her wide brown eyes.

"Can I see you again?"

"I'd like that very much. I'm in room 604 at the Mirage, but here I'll give you my cell."

"Excellent, I'll call you later Kelly."

Leaning in, _The Shirt_ kissed her on the cheek again then turned to leave. Walking towards the door, he turned around twice, waving at her the second time.

He sat, waiting for his chance to complete his work on Chapter Two. She listened to the music, slowly finishing her martini as her foot swung back and forth with the beat. He watched her pull out her cell phone to make a call. Thankful when she closed the phone apparently unable to get a hold of her friends.

Setting her empty glass down, she got up, throwing down a small tip for the waitress. Grabbing his wallet, he also threw money down, hurrying to not fall too far behind her.

Nearing eleven thirty on a street a few blocks from the strip, it was pitch black, save the street lights, and quite desolate for a week night. Spotting an ally up ahead, he decided he needed to make his move now.

Coming up behind her with chloroform laced cloth in hand, he struck quickly, holding it firmly over her mouth and nose. She put up a valiant struggle for all of five seconds before collapsing in his arms. Dragging her into the ally, he grabbed the duct tape from his sweatshirt pocket. Binding her hands behind her, he laid her down behind a dumpster, hoping nobody would find her before he got back with his van.

Emerging carefully from the alley, nobody was in sight as he made his way to the bus stop down the street. A quick ride back to the strip, and he had his vehicle.

The drive back was short, but nerve racking as he worried she had woken up, or that somebody had found her. Pulling up slowly he came to a stop in a spot just past the alley. Peering down the little street he saw no movement. Giving one last glance, ensuring nobody was in sight; he exited the van and slipped back into that alley.

Venturing behind the dumpster, she was right where he left her, still out like a light, so sweet and peaceful looking. With his hands under her arms he dragged her back towards his van, pausing momentarily before heading out onto the sidewalk with her. Opening the back door of the van he let her upper body fall to the floor; a feeling of deja vu swept over him as her ass was positioned directly in front of him, teasing Hemingway, waking him up.

Shaking himself, he picked up her legs, pushing them all the way into the van. Grabbing the tape again, he ripped a fresh piece and placed it over her mouth, just in case she woke up before they got to the lake.

Unable to wait, he unbuttoned her pants, just to see what color her panties were. A grin came over his face as the bright red string bikini became visible under her jeans. Hemingway would love those later.

* * *

"Sara, we've got a body out at the lake. Call Greg and tell him to meet us at the lab."

"Ok Grissom." Sara answered, trying not to sound sleepy. Unsure of how long the phone had been ringing before it woke her up, Sara pushed the end button and hit number five on her speed dial. The phone was picked up after only one ring.

"Yes Sara my love, what can I do for you this fine morning?"

"Greg, how the hell can you be so cheery three hours after a night shift?"

"I'm always in a marvelous mood, my dear. Besides, nothing can bring me down off of my high today. What's up?"

"Grissom wanted me to call you. We've got a body out at Lake Mead, we'll meet you at work."

"Cool, is it a second victim for the case you guys are on?"

"Greg, we're not jumping to conclusions. Just get going."

"Ok, see you—" Before he could finish his sentence Sara had already hung up the phone.

* * *

Greg found himself uncontrollably fidgety in the back seat of Grissom's Tahoe. His foot was tapping four times for every one beat of the music on the radio, and his hands were uncontrollably slapping out the same rhythm on his thighs.

"Greg, stop it."

"Sorry. I'm a little excited."

"You need to calm down. I asked you to come with us because I figured a third set of eyes on this one would be a good thing."

"You think it's a second victim of the case you and Sara are working on?"

In the front seat, Sara's eyes closed, wincing as she waited for Grissom to lecture Greg on assuming.

"I normally don't like to assume anything Greg, but a second body out at Lake Mead in such close proximity time wise to the other, plus Brass called me specifically. I'm not a gambling man, but ..."

"Man a serial killer. I'm working a serial killer case!"

"Greg, stay focused. This is a learning experience for you whatever this turns out to be. If this is not related, then you'll see why we don't jump to conclusions. If it is, you'll see exactly how much attention related cases can get, internally and externally. Either way the evidence is the most important thing. And trust me when I tell you, you do not want it known that you were a leak in any investigation. Do I make myself clear?"

Literally swallowing his fear, Greg managed a weak, "Yes sir."

The rest of the ride was quiet as all three occupants of the vehicle contemplated the importance of this body. Pulling up to the same spot as the last victim, they were directed in the opposite direction this time.

Making their way slowly along the shoreline, a large crowd could be seen by all three. While it was an out of the way spot for a dump, it appeared whoever had found the body had told their friends.

Ducking under the crime scene tape, Grissom lead the way as Sara and Greg followed closely behind. Standing shoulder to shoulder the three criminalists formed a line parallel to the shore, facing their body.

"Greg, tell me what you see."

"Uh, ok. The victim's naked; face down along the shoreline in shallow water, there's no real disturbance, only a few foot prints. Her legs are spread apart and her hands are bound behind her back with duct tape. She looks like she was positioned there purposely."

"Very good Greg. David?" Looking down the shore a little further he spotted the young man who was busily taking notes.

"Yes Grissom?"

"David have you been down to look at the body yet?"

"No sir, I figured you'd want to get a look at those foot prints first." Stopping only then from taking his notes, he looked up long enough to push his glasses back up to their normal position and to add, "I didn't want to disturb them."

"Good job, David."

"Greg, take pictures of those prints, and then watch Sara cast them."

"Yes sir."

Seeing the duo carefully go about their selected tasks, he turned back to the cluster of cops, searching for Brass. Spotting each other simultaneously, they started walking towards one another.

"It's the same sick son of a bitch, Gil."

Walking back towards the body together, Grissom answered his friend.

"Yeah, you're probably right. You see anything else now that you're closer Greg?"

"There's some residue around her ankles. Like he taped them as well. There also appears to be a round bruise on her middle back."

"Good Greg. David, the casts are poured. You can come on over and get started, just steer clear of them will you."

"Sure thing, Grissom."

Bending down by the body with David they rolled the head around to the side.

"Look at this Greg, looks like more residue around her mouth."

"Oh... God..." Stumbling backwards, Greg fell, landing hard on his butt. Scrambling backwards, trying to get away from the scene he managed to get to his feet, stumbling once more into the tree line. Retching noises could be heard from within the bushes as Grissom hastily followed him.

Getting to the tree line quickly he found Greg standing, bent at the waist and losing his breakfast on an unsuspecting tree. Thankful that he at least removed himself from the immediate area, he was still angry that the young man lost control.

"Greg, what the hell happened?"

"Grissom, I know her." Pausing he retched again, grabbing the tree trying to hold himself up.

Staring blank faced at the young man before him, Grissom tried to collect himself, tried to figure out what this meant for the case. Looking around quickly, it appeared that nobody witnessed him falling apart.

"You know the victim, Greg?" Grissom found himself cringing; hoping Greg hadn't seen her in years.

"Oh, God. I went out on a date with her last night before work."

"Oh shit, Greg. I need to get you out of here. I don't think anybody saw your little incident here. I'm going to get Brass to find somebody to drive you back to town. You need to stay there at work. They're going to question you Greg. Remember that you need to think about your answers."

"What do you mean?"

Unsure of how to let Greg know to cover himself, Grissom proceeded carefully. "I mean, this is in all probability the second victim of one man. You were in all likely hood the last person to see her alive before the killer. Tell the truth Greg, but think about your answers before you speak."

"Ok, thanks Grissom." Greg managed as he stood there trying to catch his breath. Adding almost shamefully, "I'm sorry I puked at the crime scene."

Grissom felt sorry for Greg, but tried to keep the conversation professional, knowing this would end up in court later.

"You will have nothing to do with any cases right now. You will not be out in the field and you will not be processing any evidence. Got that?"

"None? I can't work on any case?"

"None Greg. I can't have anything compromised. Do you understand me?"

Grissom didn't think it possible, but Greg's face went even paler as his mouth hung open.

"You think I had something to do with this?"

"Of course not Greg, but I have to think about what other people will think. How this will reflect on the lab should this information get out. Once you're cleared, you can work other cases. Stay right here."

Walking back towards Brass, he glared at the man, knowing a smart comment on the weak stomach of the newest member of his team was forthcoming.

"Stow it Jim."

"But I didn't—"

"I mean it. I need you to have somebody take Greg back to the lab. He is not to have any contact with any cases, hold him in an interrogation room."

Realizing Grissom was not joking around; an unfamiliar unease began to set in.

"What the hell's going on, Gil?"

"Greg knew this girl; he went out with her last night before work."

"Oh shit."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Dreaming of bright red panties, he woke quickly; arousal quite evident as the stiff flesh lay rigid against his belly. One hand went to Hemingway, surrounded him firmly, gripping, squeezing the hardened appendage as the other hand drifted up under his pillow; searching for that fabric hidden there. That soft bright red material that would urge Hemingway on; give him something to think about as he raced to completion.

Pulling the fabric out he brought it down, letting it dangle and skim the flesh in his grip. The contrast between the tightness of his grip and the light teasing feel of the fabric pushed him, urged him closer. The sight of the red material in his hand caused flashes of last night's events to flood his brain.

His hand squeezed and released, stroking up and down as he pictured himself over the dead, still body of Chapter Two. Leaning over her with Hemingway in hand, condom clad to leave no evidence behind. He came again now while remembering. Wishing he could have one more go with beautiful Chapter Two.

* * *

Riding back to the lab with Officer Blalock, Greg was thankful not to be stuffed and cuffed in the back of the police car. His date being a victim in a serial murder case was bad enough, but to be restrained and thrown in the back of a squad car just might push him over the edge.

Pulling into the parking space, his mind drifted back to his date last night, and how happy he'd been since then. And while he hadn't known Kelly long, he had a good feeling, even though it would have been a long distance thing.

Sitting in interrogation room two, Greg waited, worried and cursed himself for not taking Kelly back to her hotel. As his stomach churned again, he concentrated hard on trying not to throw up. Laying his head down on the table, the tears started and Greg began to think that they would never stop.

* * *

Getting back to the body after seeing Greg off, Grissom knelt down, joining David and Sara. "What have we got Sara?"

"Not a whole lot Grissom, but this is the same guy. I think he learned from his previous mistakes. He either killed her before he brought her down here or he waded in farther this time so there would be no signs of a struggle."

She paused looking at the bruise on the victim's back.

"What about that bruise?"

"I think it's from his knee, where he was holding her down. What's up with Greg, is he ok?"

"He knew the victim; he had a date with her before shift last night." Grissom said matter-of-factly.

With that, both Sara and David looked up at Grissom, hoping to see a smile or some sort of indication that he was joking.

"David, I would appreciate that piece of information not going any further. We need to be able to rule Greg out before anybody of importance finds out." Grissom added while looking at the bruise more closely.

"Of course." Pushing his glasses back into place on his nose, David busily got back to work.

Hearing the obvious hurt in the assistant coroner's voice, Grissom immediately regretted the statement. "Let's get this scene taken care of." Standing up to go grab his kit, he put a hand on David's back, awkwardly giving him a pat.

Looking up at David, Sara could see the blush and his small grin; she knew Grissom's meager attempt at an apology had been accepted by the young man.

* * *

With both files laid out and more eyes gathered around the table, Grissom began.

"Catherine, Warrick I need you to track Greg's movements from twelve hours before the first murder through this morning. Brass is questioning him himself, so you can meet up with him now to confirm Greg's story."

Without a word, they left to go about their task, knowing the importance of clearing Greg quickly.

"Nick, you're now on this case with me and Sara. We're about to go see what Doc. Robbins has for us."

Pushing their way into the autopsy room, they realized that getting a view around their newest victim was not going to be as easy as usual. Besides the Coroner; David and Sheriff Atwater were also present.

"Slumming, Sheriff?" Grissom asked, making no attempt at hiding his contempt at all.

"Supervising, Gil; something you wouldn't know much about. I hear you have Sanders in custody. Did he do it?"

Taking a deep breath before turning to look at the Sheriff, Grissom's fingers went to his wrist to feel the rapid beating below the skin there.

"First of all, Greg is not in custody. He's here of his own free will to clear himself. Secondly, we're in the middle of this investigation, but there is no evidence that Greg committed that murder. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Moving closer to Grissom, almost too close, the Sheriff prodded again.

"Don't you mean _those_ murders? They are connected are they not?"

"Again, we're in the middle of this investigation, Sheriff. You know as well as I do that we don't want to spread a rumor about having a serial killer. It is way too early to start a panic."

"Right, but it is just us here, Gil; me, you, half the night shift, all in the autopsy room hoping to God they're not connected and hoping we can prove one of our own didn't do it. Because we really already know that they are connected, right?"

Turning away from Grissom the Sheriff started for the door.

"Right, Sheriff. And that was good, it sounded very... impassioned, almost like you believe you _are_ one of us."

"It is all about perception, Gil."

With that he pushed back out through the swinging doors, leaving those left in the room wondering why he even bothered coming down there.

"He hang out with you often, Albert?"

"First time he's been in this room... with a body in here." The Coroner replied quickly.

Everyone present smirked, refusing to comment on the Sheriff's weak stomach and unpopular management skills.

"Ok guys, this is Kelly Nichols. Yes, she went out with Greg last night, and all I know so far is that she's not a local, she's here on vacation with some friends."

"Well, Grissom we can pretty much rule out that the killer knew the first victim, since this one was a tourist."

"Right Nick, what else?"

Pleased with his deduction, Nick carried on with the obvious.

"Both were white, young and pretty, early twenties with shoulder length brown hair. The _first_ one was drowned, Doc?"

"Yup, this one drowned too. And the water in her lungs and stomach is consistent with that of Lake Mead. There's not nearly as much sediment this time and no abrasions on her teeth."

"So he did take this one deeper into the water to drown her, Sara." Grissom said.

"Hard to fight back when your hands are bound behind your back. I'm gonna take the duct tape from her wrists and compare it to the tape from the first victim. Maybe we'll get lucky and the ends will match up."

"Good idea Nicky, but remember he taped both their ankles and mouths as well, so without those pieces your odds of a match aren't as good. Anything else, Doc?"

"I thought you'd never ask. We got another one of those green fibers. It was stuck to the tape residue on one of her ankles. I'm running a tox screen on her one too."

"Thanks, Doc." With that Grissom turned to leave the autopsy room, followed by Nick and Sara.

"Sara, let's go check out our second victim's room, and see if we can chat with her friends."

* * *

Standing behind the one way glass, Catherine and Warrick tried to settle in to watch the interrogation of their coworker. The thought that they needed to clear one of their own was making this case; which already had the entire shift under stress, even worse.

"Greggo, let's take this thing from the beginning. Nice and easy, just tell me exactly what happened so we can clear this all up." Trying his best to sound as confident as he felt about the lab rat's innocence, Brass also attempted to _look_ relaxed to put the young man at ease.

"Yes sir. I took Kelly out last night."

"Let's actually step back a minute, okay? Where did you meet Kelly?"

A flush fell across Greg's face as he realized Brass' beginning was further back than his.

"Yeah, sorry, uh I met her two nights before that at Coyote Ugly."

Realizing that this interview was going to take a while, Brass settled in to some small banter to try and relax Greg even more.

"Ah, over at New York, New York huh? Don't you find those places a little too... touristy?"

"Yeah, it's not a place I normally hang out. It tends to be a little too country for my taste."

Glad to see that Greg was loosening up, Brass continued on. "Yeah, you're a little more rock-n-roll, huh? So, you just decide to go there on a whim?"

"No, some friends from college were in town. They wanted to go, so we did. That's where I met Kelly; she was trying to teach me to dance to that kind of music."

"Oh yeah, a little line dancing?"

"Something like that."

"So you meet her there and you hit it off. Did you see her in between then and last night?"

"No, I asked her that night if I could see her again. She said yes, and we made plans to meet outside the Mirage last night at seven. She was staying there with some friends."

"So, you met her last night at seven, then what did you guys do?"

"Well, I was there at seven, she was a little late, she came down about seven fifteen."

"Just like a woman huh? So she strolls down about seven fifteen, and then you guys left. Did you drive?"

"No, we walked a few blocks and went into a couple of used book stores." Seeing Brass' look, Greg blushed, explaining their stop. "She's an English major, and I love old books. I thought it was a fun idea." Continuing in a barely audible whisper he added, "So did she."

"Sounds like you two were hitting it off Greg, I'm sorry."

"Yeah we were. I was going to call her again before she went back to California."

"Okay you hit a few book stores and then what?"

"We stopped at a little café, we got a table outside, and then we walked down the street a little farther to a jazz club I like. She was excited because it wasn't one of the normal Vegas spots that tourists hit. I joked that I wanted her to hear some better music."

Seeing Greg's eyes starting to fill with tears again, Brass decided to speed things up a bit.

"So what then Greg?"

"Uh, I had to go to work. I was going to call her a cab, or walk her back, but she wanted to stay. She said she might even call her friends to meet her there. I kissed her on the cheek, and left with her cell phone number in my pocket. That was it."

"Hang tight Greg, I'm going to get Officer Blalock to give you a ride home. Stay there and either call Grissom tomorrow, or he'll call you alright?"

Standing up, Brass gave Greg two strong pats on his back before walking out, leaving him to wipe his eyes alone in the room.

Entering the adjacent room, Warrick and Catherine greeted Brass. "There's no way Greg killed that girl Jim."

"You don't think I know that, Catherine? I still have to get his story. Now I'm gonna go to that restaurant and the club to prove he didn't do it; you guys want to come?"

"You know it." Came the response from Warrick, who was already heading out of the room.

* * *

Getting into the elevator in the Mirage, Vartan moved closer to Sara as Grissom watched out of the corner of his eye. Leaning in towards her ear he whispered, "So, you don't like elevators much do you?"

Flashing him a wide smile Sara responded just as quietly. "Elevators are fine as long as the doors stay open."

"Ah so it's the closed space not the elevator itself."

"They weren't lying when they said you were a good detective."

Grissom grunted, before he could help himself. With two sets of eyes focusing their attention on him, he turned his increasingly red face, as if he were trying to ensure the correct floor button had been pushed.

Landing on the sixth floor, Grissom was thankful to get himself and Sara out of the confined space, but more importantly to get her away from Detective Vartan. Heading down to the room all the girls shared, Vartan knocked on the door. Having called ahead, they didn't have to wait long for the door to open to the teary eyed group.

"Come on in. I just can't believe Kelly's gone." Said the blonde who'd answered the door.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Vartan began, "why don't you tell me about your trip out here... what's your name?"

"I'm Robin, Robin James. We all drove out together. We got here four days ago. We did the normal sight seeing shit... sorry." Reaching for the dresser, the girl grabbed a purse. Digging through it she pulled a dollar out, sticking it in a plastic hotel cup which was almost completely filled.

Smiling at the girl Vartan asked while pointing at the cup, "That's fine, are you winning?"

Smiling through the tears on her cheeks the girl blushed while answering, "No, I can't stop swearing, especially today."

"So, about your vacation?"

"Yeah, well we went out the other night, to Coyote Ugly, do you know it? Anyway, she met this guy; now he's not my type, but Kelly seemed to like him. His name was... Craig, no, Greg that was it. Anyway, they made plans to meet up last night. She was supposed to meet him downstairs at seven. Like I said, he was a little weird, but I don't think he would do anything like this, do you? I mean he seemed harmless to me."

"It doesn't appear that he would ma'am. We've already spoken with him, and I think your instincts were fine on that one."

"Good, I'd feel bad if we all thought he was harmless, and then he did this to her, you know?" And with that, a fresh round of tears started.

"Just one more thing, Robin. Did Kelly call you last night?"

"No, I don't think so. Hang on, let me check my cell phone, the service is so spotty." Reaching back down to the dresser she picked up her purse, again searching through what appeared to be many items. Pulling out her phone she just stared at it blank faced.

"Robin?"

"My God, she called me last night at eleven thirty. I missed the call. Oh my God I—" Getting up quickly Robin ran to the bathroom. Even having slammed the door closed behind her, the retching could still be heard.

"Uh, that'll be all for now. If you have any questions, here's my card." Handing his card to one of the other girls, he turned and led Grissom and Sara out of the room.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I would like to thank Laura Katharine for beta-ing this chapter. She did a wonderful job! Any remaining errors are all mine.

Spying the beautiful young brunette across the street; he was mesmerized. She stood there, the slight breeze blowing, moving her hair fluidly as if it were already floating in the water. It was kismet, she was Chapter Three.

He moved up behind her quickly, elated that he'd started carrying the chloroform and duct tape with him everywhere. One never knew when inspiration would strike. As she walked alone into the dimly lit parking garage, he prepared his cloth.

Just as his hand came up she turned around. With her mouth hanging open as if prepared to scream, she stood, frozen, unable to make any sort of sound.

Pulling himself out of his daze, he could have watched her almost comical look all day; he lunged forward. Bringing one arm around her waist he held her to him as the other quickly covered her mouth. She went limp a full second before his hand reached her mouth; apparently fainting from fright, falling right into him. This one was definitely fate.

Ripping the duct tape, he bound her hands before dragging her to a quiet corner. Looking back at her lovely body one more time, he could see the stark white of her panties peeking out from under her blue skirt. Almost dizzy with giddiness, he left quickly to get the van.

* * *

He awoke with a start. Sitting up quickly in his bed, beads of sweat formed on his brow and his heart raced. Another oddity was that Hemingway was not awake. In fact he was curled up, shrinking as if it were twenty degrees in his bedroom. A single thought slammed into his head. What did he do with his gum?

Jumping out of bed he began pacing, trying to think back to what happened to his gum. He didn't remember throwing it out. He didn't remember spitting it out the window of his van, nor in the parking garage or at the lake. None of the options were familiar to him.

And as he began to fear the worst, the other side of his brain took over. He must have thrown it out. It was an act so familiar and routine that he didn't even remember doing it. That must be what happened; there was no sense worrying about it now.

Climbing back into bed, the sweat started to dry and his heart calmed down, as Hemingway began to wake up. Reaching under his pillow he grabbed the soft object, sending a shiver through Hemingway as he felt the cotton on his fingertips.

Bringing the object to his face, he breathed in her scent as Hemingway completed the transformation to full size again. Gripping him firmly, stroking hard as the scent of her permeated his nostrils for the second time.

Remembering the first time, just hours before, his offering spewing out into the condom over her completely still ass. Lying there, spread eagle for him, her beautiful brown hair floating through the murky water.

His seed shot out again, this time onto his stomach. With visions of her, the scent of her still fresh for his pleasure. Dropping his hand, which held the white fabric to his stomach, he slowly worked the warm fluid into his skin. Falling back to sleep, he still held the panties tightly in his fingers.

* * *

The ringing of the phone woke Sara from her dream of walking around the lab unable to find any evidence in the serial murder cases. Thankful that it was only a dream, she reached for her cell, which was ringing and scurrying across the top of the night table. She always kept it on vibrate as well as ring, in case she didn't hear the ringer.

"Sidle."

"We've got another one," came Grissom's voice through the receiver.

"I'll meet you there in half an hour. You need me to call Nick?"

"No, I already called him. See you then."

Jumping into the shower, Sara had one mission. A quick lather with the soap and shampoo only, no conditioner this morning there was no time. Out and dressed in an instant, she put her hair in a ponytail and threw her blue CSI hat on top. While the thought of stopping for a coffee entered her brain, so did the fact that she would be out at the lake for hours, probably with no bathroom in sight. Coffee was now out of the question, because she was not peeing in the woods with a million cops and cameras around.

Arriving at the lab, she could see Grissom had beaten her there by about thirty seconds as he was already getting out of his car. Walking into the building she heard a vehicle come to a screeching halt; she knew without turning around that it was Nick. Smiling, she continued down the hallway trying to catch up with Grissom.

The predictability of her coworkers was amazing. The ever late Nick would always be squealing in somewhere or another, explaining just why it had taken him so long to arrive. Most of the time it was due to uncontrollable circumstances such as road construction or faulty alarm clocks; his list of never-ending excuses amused her.

And Grissom, no matter how quickly she got to work, always managed to beat her. For as much grief as she gave him about not caring, he was very dedicated. Their dedication was just two different things; hers to the victim, and his to the evidence and truth. While noble, it just seemed so unfeeling.

The ride to the scene was quieter than the previous two had been, but all three minds were working out theories. As they got closer to the lake, Sara noticed that they weren't stopping in the same area as before.

"Changed the drop site on us?"

"Yeah, I guess he figured we'd have people watching the area. It's a few miles further up the road this time."

"This guy is amazing. He's killing these girls so close together. Four days after the first one and three days after the second; we barley have time to start processing the evidence before we get called for another victim."

"Sara, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We haven't seen this body yet. We don't know how fresh it is. Let's not go in there assuming just because it's the third body found that it's the third victim. Or that it's even related to the others just yet."

"Grissom..." Letting out a deep breath, she ignored the snicker coming from Nick in the back seat and continued. "You're right, but weren't you thinking the same thing?"

"Of course I was. I just didn't voice it. I argue the points back and forth in my head first, always questioning myself and my theories."

A half perplexed and half angry Sara looked skeptically at her boss.

"I thought that's why we worked these cases together Grissom, to bounce ideas and thoughts off of each other."

"Yes, but..." Pausing he looked at her, a smile forming on his face as he tried to take her mind off of the victims. "If you argue them in your head first, weeding out the bad theories, you come across as wiser than you really might be."

This time there was a louder snicker from the backseat as Sara smacked Grissom lightly on the arm.

Grissom came to a stop fairly close to the taped off area. The cluster of cops was a little larger this time than the last.

"Sara, get close and look for foot prints to photo and cast again. Nick, grab the perimeter and the small parking area."

"Sure thing, Boss." With that, Nick grabbed his kit and was off.

Walking close to the body, Grissom and Sara both squatted down, looking over the naked form for any obvious evidence.

"It looks like another one, Grissom."

Trying to ignore her little _I told you so_ tone, Grissom continued his scan of the body. With his voice elevated slightly in excitement Grissom spoke, "Sara, check out her hair."

Averting her attention from the tape residue still on her ankles, Sara's eyes drifted slowly higher, stopping to study the victim's brown hair carefully. Her eyes opened wide as her heart started to race at the sight of the possible case breaking evidence.

"Oh my God, it's gum tangled in her hair, isn't it? He dropped it from his mouth; it must have been too dark for him to find it."

"Or it's not his at all, but it looks like there may be a usable dental impression there."

"Maybe even a pocket of saliva inside. We've got to get that now, before the water can do any more damage, Grissom."

Smiling at her renewed vigor he asked warmly, "Hand me some scissors, will you Sara?"

With the gum removed and safely saved, Sara went happily— as happy as she could get at a murder scene, shooting and casting the few footprints at the scene.

With the scene scoured and the body removed, they headed back to the lab to start putting things together on their latest victim.

* * *

Walking into the break room, Sara could see a few people gathered around the television.

"The newly dubbed 'Coed Killer' has struck again, leaving many young college students fearing for their lives. Chuck talks with one of them now live, Chuck?"

"Debbie, I'm here with Jason Pleasant, who will be attending UNLV this fall. Jason, tell me, how has the 'Coed Killer' affected you and your plans for school next month?"

"Well, he's only killed women so far, but you never know with these guys man, they're crazy. He could kill me just for walking with my girlfriend, you know, man?"

"Yes, I do. Back to you Debbie."

"Are you kidding me, he has a name now?" Sara sank into a chair, disgusted again with the media.

"Come on girl, you knew it was just a matter of time before they got their grubby little hands on this story."

"I know Warrick, but the _Coed Killer_? I mean, come on. It's just a coincidence that the first two have been college students. He's picking young girls that age; the odds are pretty good they go to school."

"I know, but alliteration is everything to these guys." The smirk on his face began to grow bigger. "You know that, it makes everything sound so much bigger and more dangerous."

"Well, he's plenty dangerous; I hate them making him sound more important than he is though."

"Yeah. Hey at least Greg's in the clear now."

"Thankfully for him, Greg stands out, even in Vegas. They had a very public date, and nobody forgot them." Sara said smiling at the thought of Greg's loud clothing, until the image of Kelly enjoying her last evening entered her mind. "Anyway, back to the grind, see you later?"

"You know it Sidle." Warrick responded in his smooth voice.

Leaving Warrick and the gaggle of observers in the break room, Sara headed back to the lab where they'd set up all three cases together. Entering the room she found Grissom and Nick adding the latest items of evidence on the third white board.

"According to Brass we have an ID on the third victim. Tracey Marks, she was a student at the International Academy of Design and Technology in Henderson."

"I guess that would be why they're calling him the _Coed Killer_."

With a tilt of his head Grissom's eyes squinted almost involuntarily. "The _Coed Killer_?"

"Yeah, I just heard it on the news. They're all over this already."

"Let's get to it; we have our work cut out for us." Pausing only long enough for Sara and Nick to be seated with paper and pen, Grissom continued. "From the first case we have, a green cotton fiber from gardening gloves. We also have those same fibers in the second and third cases too. Duct tape, Nick did you compare that tape against the duct tape found on victim number two?"

"Yeah, there was no match. I did however, already get a chance to compare the tape from the third vic with that of the second, and we do have a match there, my friends."

"Nice, Nicky. Okay, so we can link the second and third cases that way. We also have the video tapes from the Venetian and from a couple of businesses across the street from the apartment of the first victim. Sara, did we get anything off the tapes?"

"I checked with Archie, and he's got nothing so far. There was no evidence of any crime on any of the tapes. He's still going through the tapes from the Mirage for case number two though. Archie's going to use the facial recognition software. He'll run it on all the tapes from case number one, and then run it on the tapes from case number two. Hoping that we get at least one same face in each of the cases tapes."

"Yeah, well they are casino tapes, I'm sure he'll get plenty of matches to keep Brass busy. We also have a broken wrist for the first victim, but not for the second or third. Having the tox screen results back from the first two victims, we can assume that was the reason for the addition of chloroform. Knock them out when he grabbed them so there would be no struggle. Chloroform will probably appear in the third tox screen as well."

"Now the only thing new and different in the third case is the gum we found in the victim's hair. I'll be making a mold of the dental impression in that and then handing it over to Johnson, the day shift DNA guy. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Greg. Johnson's so slow and keeps putting Ecklie's stuff ahead of mine."

"Since Brass cleared his alibi, can we get him back now?"

"Too risky Sara, he knew the second victim, and was the last person to see her before the killer. I'm letting him come back to work tomorrow, but he will stay very clear of any evidence in this case. He'll be working in a separate lab and nothing from this case will even go in the same room as him, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, no appearance of impropriety."

"Exactly, Nick, we can't afford it when this goes to court. So let's get to work and see what we can do with this evidence."

* * *

Samantha Wells was just getting done with her shift at the Luxor when she decided to make a detour before going home. She had a craving for the homemade fudge available over at the Monte Carlo's Street of Dreams shops.

Walking down the strip with the volume on her iPod turned way up, Sam, as everyone called her, had no idea she was being followed. Paying for the fudge, the girl was oblivious to the man standing outside the store, hiding behind a tree on the cobblestone lined street.

Heading to the bus stop, she never noticed that same man get on two people behind her, and when she got off, she paid no attention to him as he followed her down the steps.

The first time she took notice of the stranger was as his hand was closing over her mouth, just seconds before she fell unconscious.

* * *

With the girl falling limply into his arms, he began to worry for the first time. Unsure of what to do with the offending object which was starting to fall off of Chapter Four. With wires falling out of her ears he could hear the music through the headphones. The clip on its case gave way and the small music maker fell to the street.

Clanking as it hit the pavement, he was torn at whether to leave it where it lay, or pick it up and destroy it later with her clothes. Coming to his senses and realizing that it's always better to bring anything evidentiary with you, he decided to take it.

Dragging Chapter Four down a side street, he ran back and picked up the iPod, shoving it into his sweatshirt pocket. Walking quickly back to the body, he reached past that newest item he'd just forced in there to grab the duct tape.

Following the protocol he'd perfected in his last two abductions, he left her there to go retrieve his van. Still nervous at leaving his chapters behind, he was getting used to having them unattended for a bit. It made what would happen later all that much sweeter.

* * *

"There aren't any cameras in the parking garage where Tracey Marks' car is parked." Brass exhaled as he plunked down in an extra chair opposite Grissom's desk.

"Odd, most have them now-a-days."

"Yeah, well it's just our luck with this case huh? Anyway, I spoke with the friend she was visiting, and she left her around ten that night. According to the friend, Tracey was heading right to the garage; she was tired and wanted to get home. You guys come up with anything else?"

"We've got good comparable foot prints at all three scenes. They all match each other. But, they're Timberland boots, too widely sold to track down a single purchase, but there is a unique cut on the sole. Again, we'll need a suspect to make a match."

"Great, we've got bupkus." Brass said as he exhaled loudly.

"Yeah, and I'm a little nervous Jim; this guy is taking women at an alarming rate. Usually if you work that quickly, you make more mistakes than this guy's made."

"True, but at the same time he doesn't seem too worried about leaving any evidence either. You think he's got a set number he wants to take and then that's it?"

"Jim, you know as well as I do that he won't stop. Once they start and get away with it; even if his initial plan was to stop, he won't. Plus, if you're talking about the gum, we won't know until we have a suspect if it was his. And as far as the cameras go, he may not even realize they exist."

"Right, which means he couldn't have planned out that part too carefully. This guy is on my last nerve and he's plucking away at it, Gil."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to CTB for her beta work on this chapter. Also thanks to all those who are still reading and letting me know what you think, it's greatly appreciated.

"Bingo, we got the scum bag!"

Hearing the excitement in Sara's voice, Grissom looked up anxiously, dropping what he was doing waiting for her to continue.

"Well, I'm pretty sure we know who he is, we just don't know... who he is."

Seeing the confused look on Grissom's face, she went on to explain.

"Using the facial recognition software, Archie put together a list of about fifty suspects who were on both sets of crime scene tapes. Taking into consideration race, age, and sex; I cut the list down to about twenty five. Watching the tape on all of them, I am positive I've found the guy, Grissom. He tries so hard to blend in and remain anonymous, it's creepy."

"Sara, you can't choose a suspect in a serial killer case based on looks and the fact that you find him creepy."

"It's not just his looks Grissom. You have to come watch the tapes, it's more than that. He hung around the Venetian before Melissa Tressle went missing. He could be seen outside the Venetian before Kelly Nichols met Greg in front of the Mirage across the street. And the coup de tat; he was sitting at the Let It Ride table that Kelly and her friends were playing at the day before."

"Really? Even so Sara, that's still pretty weak."

"Grissom, he won a fairly large amount of money on a table with a ten dollar limit. You should see his reaction, he looked like he wanted to curl up and die. Not the reaction of a man happy to have won hundreds of dollars."

"Even so, we don't know who he is right? Any thoughts on how to find out?"

"I already went to the larger hotels and had his photo checked against their facial recognition database." Seeing Grissom's face, she continued herself. "I know it was a long shot, but it was something. He wasn't in their database, but I do have an idea."

Threading his fingers before him, Grissom leaned forward, giving Sara his undivided attention.

"I say we release his picture to the media."

Collapsing back into his chair, he was starting to think Sara had lost her mind.

"Sara, we can't do that and you know it."

"No, wait Grissom think about it. We release it to them, but tell them he's a potential witness in a burglary or something totally unrelated. We'll have them make that very clear that he may have witnessed something while on the strip. What do you think? You know these guys; most of them want to play us. They want to think they're smarter than we are. I bet he takes the bait."

Grissom sat back up, giving Sara's idea some thought. Picking up the phone he punched out seven numbers without hesitation.

"Yeah, where are you? Can you put that on hold and get down here? Thanks."

Practically bouncing on the edge of her seat, Sara couldn't contain herself any longer. "Well?"

"That was Brass, we need to run this past him first, so don't get your hopes up."

"Well?"

Staring blankly at her, he couldn't figure out what she wanted now.

"Well what, Sara?"

"Well when is he coming? Damn, Grissom!"

"He's here now." Came the voice of the Captain from behind her. "What's so damned important that I had to put down my roast beef sandwich?"

"Sara has an idea. Let's go watch a video, shall we?"

Leading Sara and the increasingly annoyed Brass out of his office, they all headed to Archie's lair. After watching the tapes that caught Sara's attention; they all agreed her plan might be their best bet to try to catch this guy before he struck again.

"I'll give this to the public relations guy to pass along to the press first thing in the morning. This way the guy will have all day to see himself on the tube, and want to _help_ out."

"Hey Brass, can you have somebody watching the parking lot?" Seeing Sara's triumphant look, Grissom added, "_If_ he happens by, we can check out his vehicle when he comes inside."

Throwing a wink at his friend, Brass nodded the affirmative as he headed out of the lab.

* * *

Too excited over the possibility of their guy showing up, Sara couldn't bring herself to go home; she wanted to be there in case he showed. Walking into the break room she was startled to see both Grissom and Nick still there at nine in the morning, drinking coffee and catching up with paperwork.

"You guys want to be here too, huh?"

"I want to nail this sucker Sara. I've got a good feeling about your plan." With a large smile Nick kicked out a chair for Sara to join them in their wait.

Smiling proudly, Grissom got up, moving to the counter to refill his coffee. "You want some Sara? It may end up being a long day."

"Yeah, thanks Grissom."

"Lots of sugar and no cream right?"

Amazed that he'd remembered, she blushed, nodding her head yes. Setting both cups on the table, Grissom sat back down and buried himself in his paperwork that was overdue.

* * *

Entering his apartment around four thirty in the morning, he collapsed on the couch; too exhausted to write out the night's events. He never realized how draining this line of work was. It was harder than he ever thought creating a masterpiece would be, but it would be well worth it in the end when the world would remember his work.

Dozing periodically on the couch, he turned on the television at eight, which would be enough sleep for the day. He had another chapter to find and that wouldn't get done sleeping the day away.

With his eyes drooping, his chin was about to hit his chest again when a familiar image flashed in front of him. His eyes popped open and his body stiffened as he realized the image was him.

Staring at yourself on TV was an odd feeling, especially when a police station was visible in the background. Fumbling for the remote, he quickly turned the volume up to hear what was being said. Not comprehending how they could have been onto him yet.

Upon hearing the explanation for his picture on the screen, he laughed at the stupidity of the local authorities. And as he contemplated the location of the camera that captured his likeness, he debated internally the idea of turning himself in.

The brazenness of going to the police on another matter while still scripting his work of genius was brilliant. The sheer boldness would be a wonderful addition to the end of his gripping drama; another climax shared as he outwitted the police again.

The decision was made; he would go to them and upstage them. Outplay the so-called authorities at their own game. He would be cordial and even helpful as he attempted to accommodate them in their little investigation into whatever small crime they were investigating. It would be fun.

* * *

By two thirty that afternoon both Grissom and Sara were beyond tired, especially of listening to Nick snore as he drooled on the table. One by one their pagers began to beep, stunning all three and waking them up instantly.

"He showed." Sara whispered.

"Let's go. Nick you go to the front desk and wait for my call as to which vehicle he drove. Remember, no touching, this is a walk around only. We can't afford any evidence being thrown out if he's our guy."

"Oh he's our guy alright." Sara responded, now almost running to meet up with Brass outside of interrogation room one.

"Grissom, I want this interview." Seeing his look of hesitation, she continued, once again talking too much around him but unable to stop herself. "Grissom, I deserve this. This was my idea and I want this guy."

"And that's the problem, Sara. You want it too badly. You want him too much, and I don't want you losing sight of our purpose here." Pausing a moment he debated the risks internally before continuing. "You start with it, but I'm sitting in there."

Seeing that the argument was now over, Brass took this moment to interject what kind of car the suspect was driving. "White van, third row from the front, sixth spot from the left."

Grabbing his cell phone, Grissom relayed the info to Nick who was waiting at the front doors ready to go check it out.

Not sure if she should feel triumphant at getting to do the questioning or mad at him for treating her like a child; Sara decided to focus on the task at hand instead. Taking a moment to clear her head, she took a deep breath and entered the room with Grissom and Brass right behind her.

"Hi, I'm Sara Sidle, and this is Gil Grissom and Jim Brass, and you are?"

"Uh yes I'm William Faulkner; I saw my picture on the news?"

"Nice to meet you William, wait—William Faulkner like the author?"

He smiled internally, actually amazed that the bimbo who thought she was an expert even knew who Faulkner was.

"Yes, my parents were both aspiring writers. They had hopes that if they named me after one of the greats... that perhaps I would also have the gift."

"Ah, my parents are both defense attorneys, they pushed me to do the same." Leaning in almost conspiratorially, she whispered, "This job irritates them to no end. They think I entered law enforcement to spite them."

Watching the silly bitch attempting to associate with him; telling stories of a life he cared nothing about, he was enamored by her stupidity.

Brass felt his chest puff with pride watching Sara interview their suspect, he could actually see him relax and feel comfortable talking with her.

"Mr. Faulkner, we think you may have inadvertently witnessed a crime outside the Mirage last week. Would you care for some coffee?"

An offer of a drink, they were trying to make him feel comfortable so he would help them with their investigation. William figured he would play along and have the free cup of what would probably be government funded sludge.

"Yes please, I take mine black, and call me William."

Looking at the young officer by the door, Sara raised her eyebrow at him, an order to go get the drinks. Unmoving from his post, he did risk a look at Brass who nodded that he should do it. As the officer turned to leave, she added, "I take mine with just some sugar please officer."

Watching the interaction, William found himself amused that they would send in an obviously higher ranking woman to ask for information from a witness in a small case.

Crossing his arms, Grissom found himself pinching the skin under his forearm trying not to laugh at the display Sara was making. While enthralled with her ability to reel the suspect in, he knew the officer wanted to kill her.

"Well Miss Sidle, I was at the Mirage a couple of days last week, but I don't remember seeing anything on either day."

"Please call me Sara, and it would have been last Wednesday a little past seven in the evening. Do you remember any sort of struggle or people fighting around that time, William?"

Suppressing the laughter was becoming a chore for William; a first name basis, she was putty in his hands.

The door opened again and the officer came in with two cups of coffee. Setting the black one down in front of the suspect, the officer glared at Sara as he set hers with the cream down in front of her.

Batting her eyelashes, Sara attempted to disarm the officer, but he was having nothing to do with it. Sara gave up realizing that she could only bullshit one man at a time.

"I don't remember any sort of fight, Sara." Blowing on his coffee, he took a few sips before setting it back down in front of him.

Sara decided to stir things up a bit, knowing that he would have seen Greg with Kelly. "You don't happen to remember seeing a young couple around that time do you? The woman was a brunette. So was the man, but he had some very obvious blonde highlights. He was also wearing a very colorful shirt."

Stunned for a split second, William thought quickly. They were asking about Chapter Twoandher date,The ShirtBut if they were inquiring about The Shirt, they must be under the assumption that _he _committed the crime. Wonderful, he would play along and help them to continue down that road.

Watching the man closely, Grissom saw his color drain for a second. He composed himself quickly though, jumping on the chance to implicate another.

"You know, I do remember seeing a young man fitting that description. I didn't see a woman with him though, he was alone. I only remember him because I wondered where one would purchase such ridiculously loud clothing."

"Yes, ridiculously loud, that would be him." Forcing a smile, Sara continued. "Hmmm no woman huh? Well that's good, he either already beat her up by then, or had just left her."

"Oh, he beat a woman huh? Not a very nice guy." William was holding his breath without even realizing it, as he worried he had just laid it on a little too thick.

"No, they all can't be gentlemen like you, William. Did the officer get all of your information in case I need to ask you anything else?"

Breathing a small sigh of relief, he was composed again, knowing she'd bought his little ad lib.

"Yes, ma'am he did. Is that all you need Sara?"

"For now William, for now. If I need anything else, I may call you. Thank you so much for your time."

"You're welcome, Sara." All four seated at the table stood, as William turned to go. Turning back around he picked up his coffee cup, draining the remaining contents. He crumpled the cup and walked out of the door.

Moving to the door, Sara leaned out watching him head down the hallway to the reception area as Grissom called Nick to warn him. Reaching into her pocket, Sara pulled out a glove. "I've got you now you son of a bitch." Snapping the glove over her hand she reached down, picking up the hopefully DNA laden cup.

"Nice work there Sidle. If you're ever looking for a job, you can come work for me." Giving her a wink, Brass looked at the young officer. "There's a reason for most things around here kid. So next time a CSI tells you to get her some coffee, remember you could be helping to retrieve some case-breaking evidence."

Blushing profusely, the officer apologized to both Sara and Brass before rushing out of there.

"Sara, I had no idea your parent's were lawyers." Brass said, a little awed by the revelation.

"They're not. They do think I chose this profession to spite them, though for a totally different reason. They're hippies; they can no longer defy _the man_, since I am _the man_... so to speak."

Laughing, Brass had a whole new respect for the young brunette. Exiting the interrogation room, they almost ran over the bustling Nick. Brass continued down the hall, leaving the CSIs to their business.

"Anything in the van, Nick?"

"The van was pretty clean inside, but there was an iPod sticking out from under the front passenger seat. I could only see it when I looked in from the driver's side window. Were any of our vics wearing one?"

"No, not that we're aware of—" Again the three were interrupted first by one then by all three pagers beeping loudly.

* * *

Exiting the police station, William couldn't help the high pitched squeal that left his mouth. Looking around quickly he was happy to see nobody around. Barley able to contain his excitement, he hurried to his van, eager to get home and pen this part of his coup.

Unlocking the door, he scanned the back of the vehicle, ensuring its cleanliness. Happy with the order he was keeping in every aspect of his process, he climbed in anxious to get home and celebrate by pulling out the newest addition to his collection under his pillow.

The thought of the light purple fabric made Hemingway twitch with anticipation. The memories of last night's event combined with his still peaking high, was making all of his senses keener.

His confidence at an all time high, he knew he had to continue collecting chapters. Even though his plan had originally been for six of them; with his unbelievable success, he knew he must carry on. He would acquire such a following, it would be rude not to.

Yes, the decision was made; he would add more chapters. Picking up his speed, he hurried home, eager to extend his outline.

The car following at a safe distance behind, maintained its speed. The light sitting unplugged on the passenger seat sat, remaining unused, letting the vehicle it was following go over the speed limit without interruption. The undercover car would remain incognito.

* * *

"What the heck, he just left us, he knows where we are." Grabbing his cell, Grissom punched in the numbers to reach Brass.

"Jim, what the—" Having been obviously interrupted, an annoyed Grissom just listened. "Oh shit." His only response, hanging up, he relayed the information to the eagerly awaiting crew by his side.

"We've got another body. The son of a bitch was here, knowing he had another body out there. He probably killed her last night and he came in here today, playing with us. Grab your kits, let's go."

With Nick rushing on ahead of them, Sara turned risking a look at her supervisor. She'd seen him upset before, but not often. While she hated seeing him upset, it was comforting somehow, knowing he could be affected.

Seeing Sara looking at him, Grissom stopped, head tilting in question.

"It's nothing, I just... it does affect you too, doesn't it?" Sara asked quietly, needing him to admit it to her.

"Of course it does Sara. Nobody should die, not like this."

Pausing he watched her look at him, her eyes squinting, almost as if she were trying to believe him; hoping that he was telling her the truth.

"Just because I try not to show it, doesn't mean that I don't feel for the victims Sara. I just can't afford to let it affect my judgment."

Almost blown away by his admission, all Sara could manage was a meager, "Yeah."

"Let's go, we have work to do." Giving her a wink, he walked out. Leaving her to walk out behind him; watching him still, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Gil Grissom.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks again to CTB for her beta work on this chapter. This is the final one, and I would like to thank the folks who have stuck with this from the beginning.

The fourth crime scene was a few miles further down the road than the last one. Nick had the lead as they walked up to the tape surrounded area, Grissom's hand instinctively going to Sara's back, guiding her over the rough terrain. The scene was eerily like the previous three; naked brown haired woman, face down, legs spread, and hands bound behind her back.

"Grissom, tell me Brass has somebody on this guy. I hate that he got four, but I'll be damned if he gets a fifth victim."

Increasing the pressure on her back; his hand lingered even though they had reached their destination. Wanting to offer more comfort than allowable at a crime scene, he looked at her; hoping she could see that desire in his eyes.

"They're on him; he won't get another one Sara."

Not pulling away from his touch, he could feel her relax against him some; see the tension in her face ease a bit. Not wanting others to notice their moment, Grissom knew they needed to get to work.

"Same as the last time guys; Nick, take the perimeter and Sara grab the prints." Letting out along breath, Grissom squatted down by the body, same scene, different girl.

With evidence collected, they drove back to the lab, a somber crew. They all knew they had been too late to stop this last one, but were fairly certain they had the right guy so at least there wouldn't be any more.

Walking down the corridor towards the lab, Brass spotted them and headed their way.

"Tell me you've got something." An exhausted and discouraged Sara pleaded.

"You're not gonna believe this. Remember his tale about his parents being authors and giving him that name... blah, blah, blah? Well it turns out his father was a janitor and his mother was the school lunch lady. His real name was Eugene Walter Blunderhall; he had it legally changed to William Faulkner when he turned eighteen."

"You've got to be kidding me." Nick said, unable to stop the grin upon learning his name.

"No, and it gets better. His parent's were both murdered. They never found out who did it, but they had a pretty good idea it was sonny boy. He went to college to become a teacher. Got his bachelor's, and then a job teaching in Henderson, but he failed to get his master's in time, so they canned him this summer."

"And the fuse was lit." Grissom said.

"Yup. And get this. All his writing references and crap? He's been turned down by every publisher from here to Utopia."

Sara couldn't help the snort that escaped her, as she cracked up not only at the fact that William made up his whole life, but Brass' quip caught her completely off guard.

"Any info on victim number four, Jim?" Grissom did not find anything about William Faulkner or Eugene Walter Blunderhall amusing.

"Yeah, Samantha Wells, her fiancé reported her missing last night. The guy was terrified that she was the next victim of the _Coed Killer_."

The identity of the fourth victim choked any remaining laughter out of Sara as she whispered out, "Looks like he had every reason to be."

"Yeah. I'm going to the Luxor; she was a dealer there. She worked the swing shift last night and was due to get off at eleven. The fiancée said he called last night when she didn't make it home, but they had said she left on time. I'll grab the videos tapes. Oh, and she wore her iPod wherever she went."

* * *

Walking down the hall with evidence in hand for delivery, Grissom and Sara heard an overly jubilant squealing from the DNA lab. Their pagers went off at the same time, signifying that they should head there ASAP.

"What have you got, Johnson?" An eager Sara asked as they hurried into the lab.

"A fifty-seventh use for lubricant!" Johnson answered giddily, his eyes gleaming.

With Grissom and Sara both staring blank faced at him, he continued. "It's a competition with the other day shift lab techs. You know, see who can come up with the most uses for KY jelly." Garnering still no reaction, he carried on excitedly. "You can use it as hair gel!" Johnson nearly yelled.

"What a waste of KY." Sara responded dryly, with a look of disgust washing over her face. A small shudder went through her body as she looked the scrawny lab tech up and down.

Squinting out of the corner of his eye at Sara, Grissom tried to hurry the lab rat along, with no attempt at niceties. "Spill it, Johnson; we don't have time for this. What did you call us down here for?" The increasingly angry Grissom managed to ask through clenched teeth.

"Oh, only the case buster." Replied the cool and cocky technician. Still receiving no excitement from the stoic pair, his shoulders sagged in defeat, apparently finally giving up trying to impress the duo. "Fine. The DNA from your suspect's coffee cup matched the DNA from your piece of gum that was found on the third victim."

"Yes! We got the son of a bitch, Grissom." With fists raised in victory, Sara tried to remain silent as Grissom grabbed his cell phone.

Punching in the numbers, Grissom waited for Brass to pick up the phone. The fear of finding a fifth victim was gone with only one sentence uttered by Grissom, "Get a warrant; we've got a DNA match."

Hanging up with Brass, Grissom next called Nick to meet them. As they drove behind Brass to the victim's apartment, the relief was clearly evident in all three CSIs.

With the mood not quite as somber, they approached this scene with great anticipation. Knowing they had the right man, they were still nervous; hoping enough evidence would be found to make his conviction a sure thing.

Standing on the sidewalk, they waited for the officers to go in and grab Mr. Eugene Blunderhall. As he was led past them handcuffed, the tears rolled down his face as he kept babbling about not being able to finish his masterpiece.

"Nick, grab the van, it would be nice if Samantha Wells' iPod was still in there."

"I'm on it. Maybe we can get some DNA off the ear buds." Nick answered, nearly skipping on his way to the van parked in the driveway.

Entering the studio apartment, Sara immediately noticed the odd shape of the pillow on the small twin sized bed. It was bunched up, raised in its center. Drawn to see what was giving it that odd shape, she lifted it, gasping as she did so.

"And if we can't get DNA off those ear buds, we may be able to get it off these." Picking up the pair on top, Sara turned, showing Grissom the white pair of panties.

"Souvenirs. I love it when they keep souvenirs, Sara."

While Sara was bagging and tagging the four pairs of panties, Grissom headed to the blinds, opening them to let some light in the dark little place.

Sliding the blinds open revealed the balcony, whose floor was covered with plant boxes. Filled mostly with tomatoes, there was a small variety of other vegetables as well. All obviously well cared for.

"Well, well. I bet he uses a plant food that matches the residue on those glove fibers." A smiling Grissom said.

"And get this." Brass said from behind them. "This was on him. Actually on him, in his sweatshirt pocket!" Adorned in his own gloves, Brass was holding a roll of duct tape in one hand a vial of some sort in the other.

"Since your eyes ain't what they used to be..." Brass paused for dramatic effect, looking at the bottle as if to read it. "The label on this vial says its chloroform. Complete with a warning against ingestion." A very proud Brass went over to Sara, waiting patiently while she tagged the new evidence.

"This guy kept everything, he had no idea we were on to him." A completely awed Sara said.

"That's because of your brilliant plan and excellent interrogation skills, my dear. I'm telling everybody you learned those from me." The winking Brass left the room, leaving the CSIs to finish their business.

"He's right Sara, well except for the part about him teaching you." Smiling, Grissom continued his thought. "Because of you, there won't be another victim. And the families will get closure."

"I can't help thinking that we should have stopped him sooner though. There didn't have to be so many victims, Grissom."

"This was a victory Sara. You need to think of it that way, because of you, he won't hurt another woman. You really did do a good job."

* * *

With all the evidence brought back to the lab, there was once again a crowd gathered around the break room television. Pausing momentarily, Sara listened to the report of the capture of the Coed Killer.

Smiling, she saw Warrick sitting at the table looking up at her. Giving her a wink and a nod he rose to meet her out in the hallway. "Good job girl. That was a bad, bad plan, Shaft."

Sara couldn't help the giggle that escaped her mouth. While she got along well with the whole night shift, nobody could make her feel better about things than Warrick could.

"Thanks, now that stupid song's going to be stuck in my head, Warrick."

"Yeah, I was just passing along the love; it's been stuck in my head all night." Came Warrick's smooth reply. "But seriously, way to go Sara. You got him."

"Shut your mouth." Sara sang back at him.

Laughing, Warrick placed an arm around her shoulder, giving a squeeze before moving on down the hallway humming the theme song from Shaft all the way.

Continuing down the hall, the still smiling Sara ran into Greg as she rounded the corner, literally. While each was busy checking their bodies over for injury, she received neither a lewd comment nor a silly response from him. Although it was refreshing, seeing the lab tech so subdued was an oddity she wished to never see again.

Greg, I'm sorry about your friend."

"Thanks Sara. I didn't know her that long; it was just weird you know? I'm glad you got the guy."

"Well, it wasn't just me Greg, but thanks." Replied the now blushing Sara.

"That's not the buzz around here. Really, good job Sara. Anyway, I'm going home. I've got to get back to my normal sleep schedule. I get to come back to work with you guys tonight." Greg said, as he started heading for the door, a little happier than before.

"Great, see you then Greg." Sara yelled after him as she turned to head back down toward the locker room. Walking in with her head down, she was surprised when she looked up to see Grissom sitting on the bench in front of her locker.

"Hey Gris."

"Sara." Came his one word response as he stood up quickly. "Are you done?"

"Yeah, I finally am. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful he left us a ton of evidence, but I'm ready to go home." Replied Sara, unsure of why Grissom was waiting in the locker room, apparently for her.

"I just wanted to let you know that I meant what I said earlier, you did a great job today." Grissom said, while bringing his hand up to her shoulder, patting it awkwardly.

"Thanks, but we all worked really hard, especially you. You helped me keep things together there, and I appreciate it. I know I have a tendency to get carried away sometimes. So, thanks. And thanks for letting me know that these things bother you too. It makes me feel better, you know? Like I'm not the only one."

"You're welcome. I guess it's not fair to always harp at you, and not give you some advice on how you can maybe try to make it better. After all, I've done this a lot longer. I've learned a thing or two."

"Yeah, anyway, thanks Grissom." Sara said, amazed that Grissom stood there still, unmoving. She was starting to get a little anxious from his hovering.

"Sara, would you like to grab some coffee?" The hopeful look on his face combined with the fact that his hand was still on her shoulder let Sara know that this was not work related.

"Well, I sort of have plans already Grissom."

"Oh." He removed his hand from her shoulder, images of Detective Vartan crowding his brain. "Well maybe some other time then." He added dejectedly.

The spot where Grissom's hand was on her shoulder grew cold quickly. "You're welcome to join me. It's not anything exciting, but you can come along." Sara offered, hoping Grissom realized she wanted to spend time with him too.

Looking up at her, a relieved smile claimed his face. "Sure, uh what's on the agenda?"

"Well, there's a gathering at a park on the outskirts of town. A remembrance for all the victims, kind of a city-wide event the Mayor's office planned. You know, election time and all."

"Sara. I don't think that's a good idea. It could give the wrong impression, publicly. I don't think participating in something like that would be proper, at least not until after the trial."

"Grissom, it's just a celebration of the victim's lives. It's something I want to do. Come on, nobody will know who we are." Sara pleaded, knowing that Grissom would not give in.

"I have an idea, come on." Grabbing Sara's arm, he turned her towards the door, pushing her along.

"Where are we going Grissom?" Getting no answer she tried again. "Grissom? You know, going to a bug museum or something will not appease me." The smile on her face gave away her true feelings, despite the nasty tone in her voice.

"Please, the bug museum is easily a third or fourth date kind of a place." Grissom replied hastily, realizing a second too late what that implied about their morning.

Laughing, she followed Grissom, unsure of whether he realized he'd just said this was a date, and also uncertain of what he would consider a suitable substitute for what she had planned.

Helping her into his truck, they pulled away from the lab, the pressure from the previous couple of weeks finally subsiding some. As Grissom parked in the grocery store parking lot, Sara sat there, somewhat baffled when he asked her to stay there while he went in. And after ten minutes, she was even more puzzled as the back of the SUV opened and shut, without her seeing what he'd put inside.

"Aren't you going to let me in on the day's event?"

"You'll see when we get there." Replied the stubbornly quiet Grissom. Looking over at Sara, he watched her staring out the passenger window, deep in thought. Reaching over without hesitation, he grabbed her hand. Holding it, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand gently, he could see her smile reflected back in the window.

And as they pulled up to the cemetery, Grissom parked along the winding gravel road. Getting out, he came around to open Sara's door for her. Helping her down he guided her towards the trunk to retrieve the flowers he'd put there earlier.

"Grissom, it's a bouquet of flowers."

"They're for the first victim, Melissa Tressle. Grab the bouquet, will you? We can visit the others once they're laid to rest"

Picking up the bunch of flowers; Sara couldn't help tearing up thinking about Grissom spending the day with her in this way. Taking Sara's free hand in his, they meandered through the sea of markers. Their first date was spent wandering through the cemetery, honoring the first of the victims in their own quiet way.

End

Battus philenor


End file.
